Queen
by Layla Reyne
Summary: Bellamy stands guard, ready for the moment it all becomes too much. One-shot, Post-2x08, Bellarke.


**Queen**

**By: Layla Reyne**

**Summary: **Bellamy stands guard, ready for the moment it all becomes too much. One-shot, Post-2x08, Bellarke.

**A/N: **So, I've found my way to another fandom and couldn't resist taking a quick break from original fiction to dive back into fanfic. Plus, I wanted to give my good friend T (tamilnadu09) a get-well present, and she is, after all, the one responsible for this new obsession. My gratitude as well to Morgan (morvamp) for her beta assistance.

**ALSO FYI, MY NEW TWITTER ACCOUNT**: ** writerlayla**.

**Disclaimer: **The characters and other things from The 100 are not mine. All due credit to the rightful holders.

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><p>One hundred hours.<p>

That's how long it takes for her to break.

Ironic. And tragically fitting.

He thought it would be sooner.

Right after, when Raven, consumed by grief, had wrenched herself out of his arms and attacked. With claws and fists, words and tears. Rattling off a litany of all the things she'd stolen from her, the blood of the last still fresh on his Princess's hands.

Or the next day, when they'd laid Finn to rest in the graveyard behind the drop-ship with the rest of their fallen friends.

Or at any time over the last few days, as she, along with her mother and Kane, had been called time and again to the Grounder camp to negotiate a tentative peace, strategize against Mount Weather and see to the deprogramming of captured Reapers.

But she hadn't. Given everything he'd learned about her since they'd landed on Earth, he shouldn't have been surprised.

She'd remained calm, blank, and damnably stoic, the darkening circles under her eyes and the barely perceptible flinch anytime someone called her "Princess" were the only evidence of her silent struggle.

He'd tried to get close once, but her guarded blue eyes and raised hand had warned him off. He'd turned to leave but she'd called out, just his name, "Bellamy," soft, beseeching, contradicting her eyes and hand.

And so he'd stood guard. Keeping his distance but never far from her side. There to offer her strength; there to catch her if it all became too much.

Just as he thought it would be sooner, he thought it would be louder. Murphy saying something stupid to set her off. Another run-in with Raven. An outburst at her mother, Kane or Jaha.

But when it happens, it's quiet, just the two of them walking back from another long night at the Grounder camp. They pass a Grounder chopping wood, the unmistakable dark stain of blood on the wood catching both of their eyes right before an axe chops it in two.

He looks over his shoulder, confirming the post where Finn had been tied is gone, valuable tinder for the fires. When he turns back around, she's on her knees beside him, hands to the ground, gasping for air as if the Grounder's axe had sliced through her chest.

And for all intents and purposes it had, opening a wound she'd barely been holding together.

Slinging his gun behind his back and dropping to a knee beside her, he tentatively lays a hand on her arched back.

"Breathe, Clarke," he whispers, smoothing his hand up and down her spine. "In and out. Just breathe."

She nods, gulping in two huge lungfuls of air that rattle beneath his hand, and then she collapses onto her forearms, face buried in her hands. She trembles and shakes, the sobs she's been holding back for days finally breaking free.

Sensing movement, he lifts his head, finding the axe-man, sans axe, headed toward them. "Is there anything I can do?" he asks, hands held aloft plaintively.

"I just need to get her back to our camp."

"No!" comes a watery yet firm voice from his side.

Glancing down, his chest constricts painfully at the sight of her flushed, tear-stained face.

"I can't," she whimpers, another sob threatening to overtake her as she leans sideways into him. "Just get me out of here."

Needing no further direction, he slides one arm around her back, the other beneath her knees, and stands, cradling her in his arms as he walks past the axe-man, out through Grounder gate and into the woods.

Their woods.

She's crying, hot tears stinging his neck where her face is buried, her fingers curling reflexively in his t-shirt, but he can also feel her body relax the instant his feet cross the tree line.

He starts toward the drop-ship, but then, remembering Finn is buried there, he changes course, unsure where he's heading at first before realizing his feet are taking him exactly where they need to be.

To the place where he'd first begun to fall in love with her, though he hadn't realized that until she'd flung herself into his arms days ago.

He spies the jagged stump on the edge of the small clearing. This was where he'd first witnessed the depth of her mercy. Something that bears reminding her of in their present situation.

He lowers them down in front of the stump, setting his gun aside and leaning back against the tree, still cradling her in his arms. And he hums, one of the lullabies he used to sing to O, until her sniffles fade, her breathing evens out and her body becomes heavy with sleep. He thinks she's out but then her quiet, rough voice sounds loud in the dark, her breath warm against his neck.

"Why did you bring me here?"

"You know where we are?"

"Atom," she answers. "This is where Atom died."

"That's right," he says, his chin sliding against her temple as he nods. "Where Atom died. Just like that post was where Finn died."

She tenses at once and begins to struggle against his hold. "Where I murdered him," she murmurs guiltily.

He tightens his arms, reining in her effort to break free while keeping his voice calm and steady, trying to appeal to the rational side of her brain. "You don't think that about Atom. You shouldn't think that about Finn."

"It's different," she snaps, turning her angry gaze on him.

"How?" he asks, challenging those big blue eyes that still seem to blaze in the dark.

If there's one thing Bellamy Blake knows for certain, it's that Clarke Griffin will not back down from a fight with him.

"Atom was in pain, he was suffering," she answers without hesitation, rising to the bait. "There was nothing we could do."

"Exactly, Clarke. You tried everything. Same as you did for Finn."

"Maybe if," she starts.

He cuts her off, wrapping his hands around her upper arms. "There was nothing else you could do to save Finn," he declares, giving her a gentle shake for emphasis. "You knew that. You ended his suffering and saved him from certain pain. You showed him mercy, Clarke, same as you did for Atom."

She turns her face away, but not before he sees the tears well up in her eyes again, one racing down her cheek.

Unable to resist, he reaches out, cupping her cheek with his hand and turning her gaze back to his. "You're a healer, a leader," he whispers earnestly, wiping the tearstains from her face. "It's what you do, Princess."

The formerly snide, now endearing nickname escapes his lips before he can stop it, and he mentally kicks himself when she flinches. "I'm sorry," he rushes to apologize, curling his hand around the side of her neck. "I realize it bothers you now."

She nods, and then to his shock, relaxes back against him, her side to his chest, her cheek to his shoulder. "It was the last thing Finn said to me," she tells him quietly. "Thanks, Princess."

He has no response to that, a knot in his own throat stifling any words that would surely be inadequate, so he settles for tightening his arms around her and pulling her closer.

She's the one that breaks their silence several minutes later, and he's surprised to hear the hint of a smile in her voice. "I fear what nickname you'll come up with next."

"Queen," he answers without a second thought, receiving a startled gasp and wide blue eyes in response. "You've earned it, Clarke. I know it's a burden, a terrible one at that, but there's no one better for the job."

"You would know," she replies with a small smile, a sight that considerably lightens the weight that's been sitting on his chest since Finn's death. "They've always called you King."

He chuckles, his own smile besting hers. "You and I both know this has been your show from day one. You don't need a king, Clarke."

"But I do need you," she replies, laying a hand on his chest over his rapidly beating heart. "I can't do this without you, Bellamy."

He wants to kiss her, just as he did the first time she said those words to him, but he hesitates, worried that the timing isn't right, not wanting to complicate matters for her more than they already are. By the time he decides life has already proven too short here on the ground, she's ducked her head and is resting her cheek back against his shoulder.

He settles for her forehead, softly kissing her there before whispering his vow against her dusty skin. "You'll never have to."

"Thank you," she returns, remarkably nuzzling closer. "Can we stay here a little longer? It's quiet here. Peaceful."

"Sure thing, Queen," he replies, tightening his arms around her once more and resting his chin on the crown of her head, inhaling the scent of earth, sweat and a muskiness tinged with hooch-based antiseptic that is uniquely hers. "I'll keep watch," he says, glancing to their side to make sure his gun is within reach before casting his eyes ahead to the slowly brightening horizon. "It'll be dawn soon. Rest while you can."

It only takes a few minutes for her to relax completely into him, her breathing even, her body pleasantly warm and heavy. At the edge of sleep, she mumbles drowsily, so softly he can barely hear her, "My knight," as her hand on his chest curls into his t-shirt.

Smiling into the dark, he lays a hand over hers and begins to hum again, standing guard over the woman he loves.

His Queen.

**THE END**

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><p><strong>Hope you enjoyed my little first foray into Bellarke territory. Would love to hear what you think! Reviews, favorites and follows are most welcome. Thanks and Happy New Year!<strong>


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